Blown Force.
Hard blue winds of winter
shake snail-backed sheep close-coating hedges
and flake old granite walls
with splintering bites.
Mild green winds of spring gust
life to shy grass-growth, soft-blow first roses
and patch passing cloud-shawls
with holes of clear skies.
Hot red winds of summer
droop barley stalks in close-breathless sizzle
and sear to black brass all
fruit on blistered vines.
Cool cream winds of autumn
paint gilt-laden distance in sundowing gleam
and spread shiver-mornings
as chill proves its signs.
Hued winds of full year stretch
to sudden abuse-belts of wildest movement
yet my vote wants blown force
coloured more kindly.